


Exposure

by Paper_Crane_Song



Series: Latency [3]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s02e08 The Communicator, Episode: s02e09 Singularity, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23344900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paper_Crane_Song/pseuds/Paper_Crane_Song
Summary: PostSingularity, Malcolm is still struggling with the events inThe Communicator, and it affects him on an away mission.
Relationships: Jonathan Archer & Malcolm Reed
Series: Latency [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672780
Comments: 12
Kudos: 42
Collections: Reed's Armory Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In the episode _Singularity_ the crew act obsessed and irrational, but Malcolm seems to be acting in a way that is hypervigilant. I thought it would be interesting to explore this in light of _The Communicator_.
> 
> Feedback is always very welcome. Thanks for reading and may you know kindness and have hope in these strange and troubling times.

He’d assumed that the not-sleeping, the headaches, the coiled spring of irritation and the vague sense of unease were all due to the effects of the singularity. Never mind that these symptoms had manifested themselves days before the rest of the crew’s had. He’d been relieved to discover that these feelings had a real and physical cause, and one that had nothing to do with him. 

Except, they’d left the singularity behind and the symptoms still hadn’t gone away.

_“I think I’m still being affected by the radiation,”_ he wanted to say - to anyone, to Trip, to Travis, even to T’Pol - it was an ever-present secret and he found himself wanting to blurt it out every time he talked to someone. But he couldn’t, because what if Phlox scanned him and found that it wasn’t the singularity after all? What if something had broken inside him, irrevocably, down on that planet, where he’d lost his nerve as well as his communicator? 

No. Best not to make a fuss. Enterprise would clear this system in a few days, and he’d be free of any residual radiation that was lingering.

He’d be back to normal in no time.

* * *

“We look forward to meeting you,” Archer said in parting, and the view screen winked back to the stars. Archer beamed benevolently round, inviting everyone on the bridge to share in the success of a first contact gone well, and Malcolm felt a stab of foreboding. 

“Prep a shuttlepod,” Archer was saying, “Hoshi,- “ 

“Captain,” he said, interrupting. 

Archer turned to him in faint surprise. “What is it, Malcolm?” 

“Shouldn’t we run some more scans of their ship first before we take a shuttlepod over?”

The surprise gave way to confusion. “What for?”

He shifted slightly. “To make sure they are who they say they are.” 

Archer frowned. “They haven’t given us any indication to think otherwise, Lieutenant.” He didn’t miss the slight emphasis on his rank.

He looked to T’Pol for support but she just gazed back at him. Hoshi and Travis were looking at him too now, the same worried, maddening expressions, as if he was the one being unreasonable, and he felt a flare of anger. 

“We don’t know anything about them, sir.”

“That’s kind of the point,” Trip said, glancing at Archer, his tone light, an attempt to defuse whatever was going on. “We’re explorers.”

“I realise that,” he began heatedly, but then he stopped himself. This was neither the time nor the place. “I just think we should take more precautions,” he finished lamely.

“And we will,” Archer said, a little too loudly, a little too carefully.

* * *

He took the communicator and the tricorder slowly from their respective storage lockers, moving with an inevitable dread, as if he was a marionette controlled by invisible forces that he had no choice but to obey.

He wished he was staying behind. When he’d suggested a security detail as one of the precautions, he hadn’t meant him. He’d much rather be monitoring the situation from his tactical station, remaining happily ignorant of the potential threats the away team were walking into and that he’d be powerless to prevent. 

A hand on his, stopping him as he reached for the phase pistol. “They invited us to their ship in good faith. I’d prefer it if we didn’t greet them with weapons.” The Captain smiled to take the sting out of his words.

“Aye, sir,” he said reluctantly. 

But the Captain was still looking at him, concerned, standing too close. “Is everything all right, Malcolm?”

“Yes sir. Of course.” He busied himself with securing the pistol back in its compartment.

“When we get back, how about we have a meeting sometime, just you and me, and we’ll hash out some first contact protocols.”

“That would be fine.” Inwardly he berated himself. He shouldn’t be distracting the Captain at a time like this, demanding reassurance like some kind of petulant child. He nodded briskly. “I’m ready, sir.”

The Captain nodded back, seemingly emboldened by his resolve, and they joined Hoshi and T’Pol in the shuttlepod. 

* * *

When they docked, the aliens were waiting for them. They were larger than they’d looked on the view screen, and there were more of them than seemed quite right for a welcome delegation. His internal alarm bells started ringing. 

Captain Archer made the introductions. He nodded tightly. He placed himself off to one side, trying to get a sense of things, but everything was happening too quickly, and before he knew it they were being ushered down the corridor, away from the shuttlepod. 

He glanced surreptitiously at T’Pol. She looked impassive, bored even, and for some reason that reassured him a little. Up front, the Captain and Hoshi were talking animatedly to their respective counterparts, and he was all too aware of the other aliens behind them, hemming them in. 

By the time they stopped at the corridor juncture he had become disorientated despite his best efforts. They were deep inside the bowels of the ship, he knew that much, and it occurred to him with a flash of fear that the transporters might not work this far in.

“If you’d like to see our ship’s library,” the aliens were saying to Hoshi, “our astrometric section,” to T’Pol-

_No, don’t split us up,_ he wanted to shout. He looked imploringly at the Captain, but the Captain was chatting with one of the aliens, smiling and oblivious, and so he had a split second to make a decision. Hoshi was the most vulnerable out of all of them and yet it was his duty to protect the Captain, even though in truth he’d rather stay with T’Pol and her cool, measured judgment and her subtle strength. 

So he chose the Captain, and he accompanied him as they were guided around the ship, through engineering, the mess hall. He itched for a reason to call Enterprise so he could make sure the comm lines were working, to check that the transporters were maintaining their lock on them all (another of his precautions), but he couldn’t think of a good enough excuse.

Once or twice the aliens tried to engage him in conversation, offered him food, but his terse answers and his evident disinclination to eat soon put them off, and after a while they left him alone. They were polite, welcoming and respectful, and he didn’t trust them.

When they rendezvoused back at the shuttlepod he noticed T’Pol wrinkling her nose ever so slightly and he realised with a flush of embarrassment that he was drenched in sweat. He was careful to seat himself at the back of the shuttle, away from the others. 

As they disembarked, the prickly, crawling feeling that had been growing inside him was so strong now that he could almost feel their weapons locking onto them. He was barely able to join in the conversation of the others, and it was only when the shuttlepod came to dock safely back on Enterprise that the gnawing dread finally receded. He closed his eyes and let out the breath he’d been holding. 

“Lieutenant, are you unwell?” T’Pol’s blunt enquiry made his eyes snap open again. 

“I’m fine,” he said automatically. 

At T’Pol’s question the Captain had turned to him, was examining him attentively. 

He was painfully reminded of the last time he’d flown in a shuttle with the Captain, the state he’d got himself into. Was the Captain was remembering it too? 

They seemed to be waiting for something more from him, an explanation perhaps. “Now that you mention it, I have got a bit of a headache,” he said, as casually as he could, and yet it was clear from the looks they exchanged that they did not believe him. He was aware of Hoshi, ducking her head, trying to pretend she wasn’t there. 

“Once we’ve cleared decon I want you to go see Phlox,” the Captain said gently, and his stomach plummeted. 

“Yes sir,” he said, hardly knowing what he was about. The Captain was saying something else but he couldn’t listen. His mind was ringing with implications.  He had been found out, and yet somehow, strangely, it felt almost like a relief.


	2. Hoshi’s view

** Hoshi **

On the way over to the Sora ship, Lieutenant Reed was uncharacteristically quiet. He wasn’t much given to small talk on the best of days, but this was different; the few times they’d been together on away missions he’d go out of his way to chat to her, to put her at ease, even if sometimes his efforts took the form of teasing. Travis and Commander Tucker were the same. She attributed it to all of them having sisters; she’d talked to Lieutenant Reed’s sister at length - had been pleasantly surprised to find that Madeleine adored him - and she’d heard Commander Tucker mention Lizzie on more than one occasion. She knew Travis wrote his sister regularly.  She guessed that something about her inspired the protective, even chivalrous, instincts of these men.

And there was something else in there too; flashes of the friendship she thought they could have, if only he could learn to relax a little. After all, this was the man who’d conspired with her to persuade Phlox to extend their stay in decon after the Klingon ship, who had joined her in scaring Commander Tucker with stories of creepy crawlies on the rogue planet. 

And he was kind, a side that many people didn’t see. Whether it was helping her with target practice, or allaying her fears about the transporter or countless other deep space dangers, he never once made her feel silly or small. It was as if he knew what it was like to be afraid of something. 

So, given their shared experiences and past interactions, she would at least have expected some form of conversation.

But he didn’t say a word. He sat opposite her and seemed preoccupied, fidgeting where he sat, jiggling his legs. If it had been Travis and Commander Tucker with them on the shuttle instead of Captain Archer and T’Pol, she would have snapped at him to stop.  _(“Do you mind? You’re making me nervous.”)_ Shewas comfortable enough with him by now.

Instead, she held her tongue. She had no desire to embarrass him in front of his senior officers, and besides, from the speculative glances they gave him from time to time, it seemed they already knew.

* * *

When their shuttle docked, Captain Archer was the first to exit, followed by Lieutenant Reed. She was next, but as the Sora stepped forward to welcome them the Lieutenant stood bodily in front of her, shielding her. She stepped around him, frowning, and caught his quick, self-conscious look as he stood aside.

The Sora Captain spoke, and she was captivated by the beauty of the language. And yet, as greetings were exchanged, she couldn’t help but remain aware of the Lieutenant. He had the knack of blending into the background until he was needed, a calm, reassuring presence. But right now he was tense, on edge, trying to look everywhere at once. It was distracting, and she was glad when their Captain suggested a tour of the ship. She walked on ahead with the First Officer, and as he explained their culture to her, the inherent riches of it swept her away. 

* * *

When her guide led her back to the shuttlepod, Lieutenant Reed was waiting with the Captain and she knew instantly that something was wrong. His face was ashen, his hair black and damp as if he’d been wearing an overly-warm EV suit. She looked at him with real concern as his eyes darted over her, checking to make sure she was unharmed. T’Pol approached and he did the same to her.

On the journey back, he was still, but it was the wrong kind of stillness. He was frozen, almost as if he was bracing himself for something. 

“How’d you get on over there, Hoshi?” Captain Archer said, interrupting her observations.

“It was a linguist’s dream, sir,” she said, attempting a smile. “Even if I spent two lifetimes studying their language I doubt I’d approach anything near fluency.” 

“Perhaps their vocal cords have a different anatomical structure compared with humans,” T’Pol said. “They appeared capable of producing multiple sounds simultaneously.” 

“As I recall, some birds back on Earth can do that too,” Archer said. 

“Lateralisation,” she said, going into teacher mode. “But that’s not it; according to Toral, the Sora lose that ability as they get older.” As she expounded further, she watched Lieutenant Reed all the while. He wasn’t taking part in the conversation, wasn’t even attempting to follow it. 

“What were your impressions, Lieutenant?” Her question was deliberate, perhaps even cruel, to put him on the spot like that, but he was worrying her. 

He missed his cue, was off by a few seconds. “It was very interesting,” he said absently.

His manner  reminded her of the time she’d been tasked to discover his favourite food, early on in their mission. He’d been working as he ate, two padds next to his tray as she sat down at his table. She’d tried to engage him in conversation but he’d given vague half-answers, made non-committal sounds until eventually he gave up any pretence of listening all together. 

But then she’d cleared her throat and he jerked his head up, sheepish, turning his attention away from his work, and in that moment it felt like nothing else existed to him except her.

Then he’d misunderstood her intentions. Suddenly they were both clambering to find a way to make the moment less awkward, him wringing his napkin in mild anguish as he sought to make amends, and her, blushing, wishing wholeheartedly that she had not demanded this unbearable level of attention from him in the first place.

Now, on this shuttle, on the way back to Enterprise, she had the distinct impression that she had ceased to matter to him. They all had. His attention had been captured by something else, and she had no idea what that was.

And then she had a revelation so strong that it actually took her breath away. 

_He’s terrified._

The realisation brought back half-buried flutterings of her own fears, and instinctively she looked to Captain Archer. He was also watching the Lieutenant, and she was reassured that he too was witnessing what she was seeing. 

When the shuttle touched down in the launch bay, the Lieutenant let out a sigh. The tension seemed to leave him all at once, and she leaned out quickly towards him, half-afraid that he would faint. 

“Lieutenant, are you unwell?” T’Pol said, and instantly he snapped to attention.

“I’m fine,” he said, too quickly, making eye contact with each of them, hyperaware now. 

For a moment no one spoke. 

“Now that you mention it, I have got a bit of a headache.”

He was acting like he was trapped, as if they were the threat. It was swiftly becoming a confrontation, and so she looked away, one less person for him to contend with. 

“Once we’ve cleared decon I want you to go see Phlox,” she heard the Captain say quietly, firmly. 

“Yes sir.”

She risked a glance at him. He looked stunned. His unfocused eyes found hers, and she averted her gaze quickly. She cared about him, and whilst she wasn’t sure if they had progressed from colleagues to friends yet, she knew that she liked him, respected him, and seeing him in this state was distressing. 

She hoped that a visit to sickbay would cure whatever was wrong with him, but another part of her, the part that was already well-acquainted with the mercilessness of fear, whispered at her not to be so sure. 


End file.
